


With Festive Airs Attending

by LadyShadowphyre



Series: Sastiel Love Week 5 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autumn Festival, Castiel likes bees, Castiel likes sunflowers, M/M, Quilting, Sam Winchester has sunflower eyes, Sastiel Love Week, Small Town OCs Know What's Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 21:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12713217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowphyre/pseuds/LadyShadowphyre
Summary: Sam Winchester has plenty of reasons to dislike Autumn, but he'll make an exception for Castiel.





	With Festive Airs Attending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodgirlgonegeek16/gifts).



> Day Five: Autumn Themed

**S** AM HAD NEVER really liked Autumn. Growing up, moving around from place to place, never sure what region of the country he would be in from week to week, Autumn had frequently meant a new start at several new schools, each one beginning their curriculum in a different place at a different pace so that he would end up covering the same material three times and then get dropped in weeks behind only a month later. Autumn also meant that football was In, and the football players were local gods, meaning the skinny nerds like Sam were often in fear for their property, their dignity, and in some cases their lives.

It also didn't help that so many places made such a big deal about Halloween. Before Sam had known about Hunting and monsters, he'd been confused and upset about why Dad never let him go trick-or-treating with the other kids, or why Dean looked so pale and grim about it despite the prospect of free candy. Afterwards, it made him feel sick to think about all those kids dressing up as things they thought were costumes, never knowing that the real creatures would probably see them as delicious snacks. Dad drank more around Halloween, too, and Dean tried his best, but he couldn't shield Sam from the curses and contempt forever. Years later, learning about the demon Samhain would only be the icing on the cake of his dislike for the holiday, more than even his dislike for the day two days later.

And then, Halloween would be done, and everyone would be making a big deal over Thanksgiving. School would let out for a few days, meaning that more often than not John would choose then to move them somewhere else, ignoring the holiday the way he ignored every other holiday except the anniversary of Mom's death, and Sam hated having to dodge questions about what his plans for Thanksgiving were, or what he expected to eat at the feast his teachers and classmates obviously expected his family to have. The one time he'd actually had a real Thanksgiving dinner, the experience was marred by the fact that Dean was away with Dad on a hunt and they were overdue. He'd had fun, but the whole time he'd been missing his brother.

Stanford had changed a lot for him, but even Jess and her enthusiasm for the holidays and eagerness to get Sam to participate in these arcane rituals that made less sense to the Hunter than  _ actual _ arcane rituals couldn't change his generalized distaste for Autumn. It seemed only fitting that Dean would come and disrupt his safe scholastic life in the season he disliked the most, or that the Yellow-Eyed Demon would choose to kill Jess the same day it had killed Mom. Because of course that was how things would go.

So it surprised Sam when Castiel actually seemed enthusiastic about the approaching Autumn months. He wasn't particularly obvious about it, not so much that Dean ever noticed, but Sam could see the interest lurking in blue eyes scanning over shop windows decorated with multicolored leaves or a diner menu advertising a new fall special. Things finally came to a head the twenty-ninth of October when the three of them were on a case in Tennessee and the motel clerk made mention of the town's annual Autumn Festival.

"Y'all should definitely check it out if you plan to be in town through the weekend," the cheerful woman said as she handed over a flier with the keys.

"Sorry, ma'am, we rarely get that kind of down time in this job," Dean said briskly, turning away to hand one of the keys to Sam, missing the look of disappointment that crossed the angel's face. Sam took the key and the flier, but said nothing, and agreed to get started with the investigation first thing in the morning.

The case turned out to be something of a bust. Investigation turned up nothing supernatural, just a regular crazy human killer who had decided to get creative with his kill to throw off suspicion. Under Castiel's piercing stare, the man had cracked like an egg, spilling everything to the angel and the two towering hunters. Sam was more than happy to let the local law enforcement take charge of the man. Even though Dean was more disgruntled about not getting to shoot something, it was late enough in the day that it didn't take much for Sam to convince Dean they should stay the night and drive back to the bunker in the morning, though Castiel shot Sam an odd look for it. The look changed to one of suspicion when Sam suggested Dean find a bar or something without them and they would catch up to him the next morning.

"Where are we going? Is there more to the case?" Castiel asked as Sam ushered the angel towards the outskirts of town.

"Not that I know of," Sam assured him. He pulled out the crumpled flier and handed it over to Castiel, watching his face change from suspicion to surprise and wonder as he realized what he was looking at. "Things don't really get underway until tomorrow when it's Halloween, but there should be something of the festival going on this evening for us."

He was right. Most of the bigger events would only take place the next day, but there were still games and craft stalls set up around the large field and lit by torches in the fading evening light. Sam tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and followed Castiel from stall to stall, just watching the way the angel's face lit up with excitement as he tried to take in everything. Castiel asked questions of the craftspeople selling their wood carvings and knitwear and quilts. He studied the techniques being shown for pumpkin carving and then tried his hand at carving one of the pumpkins to be displayed along the parade route the next day. He even managed to convince Sam to play one of the festival games involving throwing darts at orange and green and yellow balloons. The prize he won turned out to be a voucher for one of the intricately crafted quilts, so back they went to the quilter's stall and Sam encouraged Castiel to choose whichever one appealed to the angel most while Sam stepped over to the stall next door to get them a couple of styrofoam cups of hot cider.

"You boys here celebratin'?" he heard the elderly man presiding over the stall ask Castiel. In a town as small as this, the man had probably pegged them easily as outsiders, but the tone was friendly rather than suspicious so Sam paid for the cider and lingered just out of sight to listen.

"It is the anniversary of the day we met," Castiel answered, surprising Sam. Though thinking back, he realized that Castiel was right. He had almost managed to forget that his first meeting with Castiel had been the day before Halloween, usually preferring not to dwell on the rising of Samhain given how tied up it was with the Seals and the Apocalypse and Ruby....

"Love at first sight for you two, was it?" the old man asked with a knowing tone, making Sam nearly choke on his first sip of the fragrant cider.

"Oh! No...." Castiel said, his voice dropping quietly so that Sam had to strain to hear him. "Our first meeting did not go very well at all, and that was entirely my fault."

"Seems like you managed to overcome a bad first impression well enough, if he's winning you prizes and such," came the knowing tone again.

"Sam is very compassionate, and more forgiving than even most venerated saints," Castiel said, making Sam's cheeks heat with embarrassment. "There is not a day that I do not give thanks for his willingness to forgive my abominable behavior towards him and accept me into his heart. Though I fear I may have exhausted his patience with my enthusiasm for your festival tonight...."

"Not at all, Cas," Sam found himself saying, stepping around the canvas side of the stall. Castiel started, looking guilty, and Sam shook his head. "It was my idea to stick around town long enough to come here, remember?" He handed one of the cups of cider to the angel, who took it automatically. "Are you having fun?"

"Yes, quite a lot of fun," Castiel admitted. "But--" He fell silent when Sam, greatly daring, reached up and touched his lips with one finger to still them.

"As long as you're having fun, then I'm happy to be here with you," Sam said seriously, flushing slightly as he lowered his hand again. "Okay?"

"Okay," Castiel agreed. Sam wondered if it was his imagination that the angel sounded a little breathless. Before he could contemplate it too much, Castiel had turned and was tugging Sam over to one of the quilts. "I thought perhaps this one would be acceptable."

Sam looked at the quilt. He wasn't particularly knowledgeable about the craft, but it looked warm. The colors were several shades of blue and green and yellow and brown calico prints, and the photograph taped to the shelf below it showed a pattern of sunflowers out of the different color fabrics. Peering at the quilt more closely, Sam could see the layers were held together with a network of stitches that had been made to resemble strings of bees flying. He grinned. Somehow, he should have known.

"It looks great," he said instead, daring to wrap an arm around the angel. "This is the one you like best?"

When Castiel nodded, Sam handed over the voucher to the old man, who shot him a knowing smile that matched all too well with the tone Sam had heard and presented the neatly folded quilt to Castiel. They bid the man farewell and stepped back out into the main field, the quilt held close to Castiel's chest with the arm not occupied by the cup of cider. Sam kept his arm around the angel as they walked, and he knew he wasn't imagining the way Castiel tucked himself up against his side to walk in step with him.

By unspoken agreement, they left the festival when the middle of the torch-lit field was taken over by musicians and dancing couples. The wind had picked up to bring more of a chill than Sam's jacket could shield him from, so they ducked behind a tent on the outer edge and Castiel flew them back to the motel room. When their arrival was not heralded by a round of cursing from Dean, Sam took the chance and ducked down to brush a kiss across Castiel's wind-chilled cheek.

"Happy anniversary, Castiel," he whispered as Castiel looked up in surprise, cheeks flushing, and was rewarded with Castiel's rarely seen shyly pleased smile.

"Happy anniversary, Sam Winchester."


End file.
